Glee Fic: Biting My Tongue All Week
Feb. 27th, 2012 02:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
out_thereTitle: Biting My Tongue All Week
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Spoilers: 3.14 “On My Way”
Notes: Set during 3.14 and features reactions to that episode. Title comes from Rilo Kiley’s “Portions for Foxes” (“There’s blood in my mouth ’cause I’ve been biting my tongue all week”) because Darren Criss singing “Cough Syrup” makes me think of Rilo Kiley. Thank you tokmousie for such a quick beta!
ETA: Crossposted at LJ and AO3.
Word Count: 4,096
Summary:
Kurt feels his stomach drop as he realises Blaine’s considering his words. It’s ridiculous. He shouldn’t need to edit and self-censure for Kurt. He doesn’t want Blaine to do that. He wants Blaine to know that no matter what he says or how he feels, he can always be honest with Kurt. Kurt will love him regardless.
***
After Blaine’s first day back at school, Kurt drives him home. It’s not a hardship to chauffeur his boyfriend to and from school – Blaine’s not allowed behind the wheel until he gets permission from his doctor – but Blaine’s already thanked him twice for agreeing to it.
“I’m not being entirely selfless,” Kurt points out cheerfully. “If I drive you home and your parents aren’t back for another two hours, and your couch is sitting there, all alone and unappreciated…”
“Now it all makes sense.”
***
They do end up on the couch, but not making out. Gossip Girl is playing on TiVo and Blaine is pressed against Kurt’s side, his head on Kurt’s shoulder. (His weight is on the good eye. After wearing the eye patch for weeks, it’s become a habit for Blaine to sit to Kurt’s left.) Blaine says something, but it’s so soft that Kurt doesn’t quite catch it.
“What did you say?” Kurt asks, pausing the TV.
Blaine sighs. “This sucks.”
“This sucks?” Kurt glances at the TV, but the show doesn’t seem any worse than usual. Storylines are still unbelievable, wardrobe choices are inspired.
“My eye waters if I don’t wear sunglasses outside,” Blaine says quietly. “I can’t finish my English homework on weeknights because reading after a day at school gives me headaches. When I complained about it, the doctor said its fine. I’m healing well and I have to be patient. This really sucks, Kurt.”
“I know,” Kurt says, kissing the thin skin at Blaine’s temple. “But we’ll get through it.”
***
“I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at Sebastian,” Blaine tells him a week later, and Kurt watches him take the stage and pour so much into his performance that it almost hurts.
Afterwards there’s not much Kurt can do, but he steps closer, wraps his arms around Blaine and holds on. Blaine’s fingers dig into his back – pulling his cardigan out of shape, but Kurt’s not worried enough to pull back.
“I’m angry that it happened again. That I was the one in hospital and he’s fine, he’s still in school and his life hasn’t changed,” Blaine says into Kurt’s shoulder, voice catching and breaking on the words. “It’s not fair.”
“It’s really not,” Kurt says, and doesn’t let go until the auditorium is empty and it’s only the two of them on the stage. The room is huge, objectively speaking, but onstage with Blaine, it feels like their own private world.
“Santana told me about Sebastian. About…” Blaine shrugs, letting out a sigh that sounds like the woes of the entire world. “It’s not important.”
“I think it is.”
Blaine stops and pulls back, stepping away. Kurt feels his stomach drop as he realises Blaine’s considering his words. It’s ridiculous. He shouldn’t need to edit and self-censure for Kurt. He doesn’t want Blaine to do that. He wants Blaine to know that no matter what he says or how he feels, he can always be honest with Kurt. Kurt will love him regardless.
“Just tell me. Whatever it is, just—”
“I’m angry, I’m furious, but it’ll pass,” Blaine says, and then he turns away to get his bag. He pulls his satchel strap over his shoulder. “There’s no point discussing it to death.”
***
Usually when something horrible happens, Kurt seeks Blaine out. He finds him. Mostly because he knows what Blaine will say, that Blaine will hold Kurt’s hand and tell Kurt that everything will be okay. They’ll get through it. Blaine will be supportive and kind, and he’ll never suggest that Kurt’s to blame.
But this is David Karofsky. This is a guy who hated himself so much that he tried to take it out on Kurt. Someone who was so scared of being different that he moved schools to find somewhere he could pretend to be like everyone else. This is Kurt’s mystery Valentine, who called Kurt over and over this week and was hurting so much he did something terrible and desperate.
No matter how Kurt thinks about it, it still comes back to him. Kurt knew about it – maybe not all of it, but enough – and Kurt could have, should have done more. He should have answered the phone. He should have reached out to David, checked if he was okay after Valentine’s Day. A brief look at his Facebook wall shows how bad things still are.
Kurt goes to the God Squad and does his best to pray. He doesn’t believe in anything higher, but he makes an attempt. It’s easier to think of it as psychically sending good wishes to David and his family. He doesn’t think it will work, but he has to try.
***
“It’s not your fault, Kurt,” Blaine says after Miss Pilsbury catches them in the hallway and says if they need to talk to someone, she’s always there. They’d both nodded and thanked her, mumbled something to get her to go away, but Blaine hadn’t missed Kurt’s guilty tone. Sometimes, his boyfriend knows him too well. “You can’t be blamed for what somebody else did. You didn’t choose for him to make that decision. You can’t control it, so it isn’t your fault.”
“Do you really think that? I could have answered his calls—”
“Still not your fault,” Blaine snaps out, hard and angry in a way he so rarely is. “You know it isn’t.”
Kurt steps back, more out of shock than anything else. He knows Blaine, and the lack of compassion is so unlike him that Kurt’s stunned. Maybe it’s because Blaine’s only known David Karofsky as the bully who made Kurt’s life hell; maybe it’s because after his own experiences, he has a very short fuse when it comes to bullies. Maybe it’s because this is upsetting Kurt more than he wants to show, and Blaine can probably tell.
But Kurt remembers sneaking into Dalton under the flimsiest of excuses and how Blaine worried and cared and went out of his way to be there for Kurt, someone he barely knew. It doesn’t make sense that Blaine would object to David needing some support too. “David needed someone,” Kurt says and Blaine nods, but his eyes are pinched and hard.
Luckily, the bell rings for class and Kurt has a good reason to leave this conversation unfinished.
***
Kurt normally falls into step with Blaine. It’s not something they plan, but they know each other’s class schedule and where they’ll be. They keep an eye on each other’s lockers. They always find each other.
Today, Kurt avoids his usual places. He doesn’t dawdle at his locker, or sit in the auditorium, or hang around the choir room. He sits in his car for lunch, too upset to eat anything, and he goes to the library straight after class is finished for the day. Kurt returns a few books and flicks through his current assignments, plans what he’s going to do when. He fills in half an hour until the crush around the lockers has gone.
Blaine sends a text message: Have to go home. Parents expecting me.
When Blaine got permission to drive, Kurt had been disappointed. It had been nice having company on the way home, having a good excuse to spend an extra hour with Blaine on his couch. Right now, he’s so grateful for it.
He replies See you tomorrow and adds a smiley face he doesn’t really feel. Then he calls the hospital, only to find he can’t visit yet.
Kurt goes home and does what he can. Cooks a meal in advance, just in case it’s needed. Does as many of his homework assignments as he can, in case he needs the time later. He knows from his dad that it’s hard to study at someone’s bedside. It’s hard to focus on writing a coherent essay while sitting near machines, hospital beds and coolly efficient nurses.
***
He sees Blaine in the student parking lot the next morning. Blaine smiles, says hey, and it feels like a performance. Like somewhere there’s a script (“Scene: parking lot. Enter boyfriend. Lead makes small talk and ignores current crisis.”). It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel real.
Blaine reaches over and wraps his hand above Kurt’s elbow, squeezes and says, “Come on.” He leads Kurt inside, not saying anything else until they get to the choir room and close the door. It’s always deserted early in the morning and today Kurt’s glad of it.
Kurt can’t sit still, so he stands. He paces, watching the ground, drawing straight lines from heel to toe, and following with the next.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Blaine says because he knows Kurt. He loves Kurt. He knows how Kurt thinks and what would worry him, and all of that’s lovely, all of it, but right now Kurt doesn’t want to be told its okay. He doesn’t want to be let off the hook for this, he shouldn’t be. Someone nearly died, and that should be important. That should be worth a little grief.
“I could have done more. I should have answered his calls.”
“He harassed you,” Blaine says slowly, carefully. “Nobody would expect you to answer the phone to someone who threatened to kill you last year.”
“I’m not trying to live down to the minimum expectation,” Kurt snipes back. “It doesn’t make it right to ignore him.”
“It wasn’t your responsibility to answer.” Usually, Blaine is patient and warm, but that comes out a little sharp, a little angry.
Surprised, Kurt looks over and Blaine smiles, but Kurt knows Blaine too. He knows that sometimes Blaine smiles because he means it, because he feels so good he couldn’t hide it if he tried; he knows sometimes Blaine smiles because it’s appropriate, because he should, because that’s what polite people do. This is definitely the latter. It’s understanding and encouraging, but the look in his eyes doesn’t match it.
“Are you mad at me?” Kurt asks, and there’s a rigid set to Blaine’s smile.
“Of course not.”
“You are,” Kurt says, because he knows Blaine like he knows McQueen, inside and out, seams to hemlines.
“Of course I’m not angry at you. Why would I be?”
“Because you look angry, and—”
“Kurt,” Blaine bites out, voice rough and clearly upset. It’s a warning, and that’s never happened before. Then again, they’ve never really fought before. Not that Kurt’s even sure this is a fight.
Maybe this is just one of the stages of grief.
“Shouldn’t you at least be able to tell me what you’re angry about?” Kurt asks, because Blaine’s been like this all week. He’s been jagged and bitter, and he keeps blaming it on his recovery, on tiredness, on discomfort from healing. Usually, Kurt lets it go because they’re all good reasons and must be contributing to Blaine’s unsteady moods. But he stepped back with David, pretended he didn’t have to ask because David would deal with it in his own way and eventually things would be fine. He can’t do that with Blaine.
He can’t risk that with Blaine.
“Look, it’s not even—” Blaine cuts himself off, lips pressed together into a furious line.
“Still angry at Sebastian?”
“Yes and—” Again, Blaine stops the thought before it escapes. He glances away from Kurt, glaring at the whiteboard like it holds all the answers.
Blaine’s always been a strange mix of transparent and opaque when it comes to his feelings. He’s easy to read onstage, when he says things like I love you and means them absolutely, down to his bones. It’s obvious how much he’s feeling and how deeply he means it. But there are times when Kurt can’t read him at all. Blaine smiles politely and says what he thinks should be said, and Kurt can’t always tell how much is genuine and how much is a conscious effort to do what’s expected.
Blaine’s temper is the same way. When Kurt’s angry, he’ll bite and snarl out comments and hold that anger, low and simmering. He’ll show it in sharp comments and heated rants to anybody who will listen, it’s all sarcasm and he’s never tried to hide it. Blaine’s temper is the opposite. It’s concealed beneath smiles and understanding nods, enthusiasm to try to see the good in everything until suddenly it bursts out. Kurt’s only ever seen it for short moments: a brief complaint on how the glee club is run or shoving Sam back in the choir room. It erupts like a volcano and then, just as quickly, Blaine covers it again, goes back to looking on the bright side of things.
Blaine acts as if having a temper is a weakness, as if showing he’s annoyed invalidates any point he’s trying to make. “What are you really angry at?” Kurt asks, and Blaine shrugs, and steps back.
“I’m fine. It’ll pass, Kurt,” Blaine says confidently as if willpower can force it to be true. “I’m worried about you. Are you okay? I know Karofsky—”
“I don’t want to talk about David.” Kurt couldn’t bear it, not now. Not yet.
“Fine,” Blaine says, but it really isn’t.
***
They see each other in the halls and walk to class together, but they don’t talk. Blaine mentions the novel he’s reading for English and Kurt tells him about Ms Langton’s ability to find misogynistic subtext in any story.
“We’re reading Animal Farm,” Blaine says, shuffling his books in his hands. “How could she possibly assign an essay on sexism?”
“She’ll find a way,” Kurt says, and then they walk in heavy silence to Blaine’s next class.
***
It makes sense that Kurt finds Blaine boxing in the gym at the end of the day. Kurt only finds Blaine in the gym when he’s upset about something and by the state of him – tank top damp and clinging to his sweaty chest – he’s been here a while. “Who are you angry at now?” Kurt asks brightly. If Blaine’s boxing, he’s usually riled up enough to share his frustrations.
“Honestly?” Blaine lands two quick, hard punches. “Everyone.”
Kurt tries to keep his tone light, tries not to wince at the steady thumps of Blaine’s fists. “Everyone? That’s a lot of people.”
“I’m angry at the Dalton administrators. I’m angry that they didn’t apply the rules I used to believe in.” A few sharp, quick jabs are followed by a sound punch that Blaine leans into with his whole shoulder. The bag swings back a foot and Blaine catches its return with another blow. “I’m angry that Karofsky was so vile to you. He was violent and mean and atrocious. And none of that will stop you crying over him.”
Kurt doesn’t try to lie and deny that. Kurt’s already cried, and Blaine knows it. “Anything else?”
Blaine’s intense glare at the bag only shifts to Kurt for a moment. “I’m angry that it happened at all. I remember having both of my arms in casts and wishing that the guys who did that could have a taste of their own medicine, so for a little while they’d know how it feels. That’s exactly what happened to Karofsky and I can’t even take any satisfaction in it. Because it’s terrible. All of it. The whole thing is ugly and horrible and I hate that it happened. And I hate that I’m angry at you.”
“You’re mad at me?”
“I don’t think you deserve it, and I don’t think I should be,” Blaine says, steadying the bag and standing still, “but I am.”
“You’re angry at me,” Kurt repeats slowly, struggling not to be hurt and failing. “You think it was my fault? You think I should have answered the phone? Because that wasn’t what you said at the time.”
“No. I’m angry that you didn’t tell Principal Figgins what really happened. You didn’t tell your dad, and I didn’t tell anyone either. We knew. We both knew what was fuelling all of that bullying, and we didn’t tell anyone.” Blaine takes a deep breath and releases the punching bag. He takes a few steps back, bending his knees and raising his fists to start beating the bag some more.
“You think I should have told someone? You think I should have outed him?”
“Yes,” Blaine says sharply. He hasn’t thrown a punch yet but he still looks ready to. “I know why you didn’t. I understand not wanting someone else to feel how bad it can be, but I don’t think we did the right thing. I think… Somebody else should have known. I don’t think it should be up to a bully to finally realise he’s wrong. I think there should be rules and they should be enforced. There should be consequences. And I think…” Blaine stops, shrugs. He’s still angry, it’s still sharply acidic and hiding under the surface, and Kurt can see it. It’s in Blaine’s hunched shoulders and clenched fists. It’s in the set of his jaw and the way he won’t look away from the bag, won’t look at Kurt while he throws around blame.
“There’s no point watching what you say now,” Kurt says, his voice going shrill and tight the way it always does when he’s distressed. “If you’re going to be opinionated, you might as well go for the jackpot.”
Blaine’s eyes meet his. He can see the challenge there, but Kurt’s not afraid. He’s never been afraid of a challenge, and he’s never been afraid of Blaine.
There’s a long beat where Blaine glares at him and then the words come out, rough and raw. “I think you should have told on Sebastian. You should have given that recording to Dalton so they could do something about it. You could have given it to me so my parents could press charges.”
“Who told you about that?” Kurt asks, and it makes him sound guilty but he’s not. He did the right thing.
“Santana.” Blaine takes a deep breath and Kurt watches him roll his shoulders like he’s trying to force the tension away. “I understand that you’d rather help everyone overcome their attitudes and grow into better people. I also know that you want to defeat him fairly. But it feels like…”
“Like what?”
“It feels a lot like transferring to Dalton and not pressing charges,” Blaine says and Kurt’s about to argue that his dad got Figgins and Coach Sylvester involved, that if the school board wouldn’t believe them there was no point involving the police. Then he looks at Blaine. Really looks at his boyfriend and sees how hurt and angry and scared he looks right now. Blaine’s not talking about Kurt’s transfer. “It feels like what happened to me didn’t count, that it wasn’t important enough to be recognised. So I’m the only one who has to live with the consequences.”
And Kurt can’t. He can’t deal with David hurting himself and Blaine hurting because Kurt tried to do the right thing. He can’t do this right now.
He’s not even though the doorway when he hears the thud of a fist hitting the bag.
***
Kurt doesn’t sleep well that night. He nearly texts Blaine a dozen times, nearly calls too, but he loses his nerve every time.
Courage, Kurt thinks to himself. It doesn’t help at all.
***
Kurt oversleeps the next morning and spends fifteen minutes finding the pore minimiser, which for some reason has been placed on the wrong shelf. Then he takes a good look at the outfit he'd planned for today: sky blue and lemon, a pastel impression of a bright sunny day.
He'd wanted to celebrate the idea of summer, light and breezy, and now it's all wrong. He doesn't feel like watercolours and blurred edges today. He wants straight lines and black-on-white definition. He wants clear lines and emphasized borders. He goes back to his closet and starts over.
By the time he gets to school, he’s late for class. The corridors are deserted, except for a few stragglers. Kurt smooths a hand down his monochrome striped pants and gets his books out of his locker. For once, he doesn’t even look at the pictures stuck to the inside of the door.
***
Blaine’s locker is open, and he’s standing there arranging books, occasionally leaning inside to reach something at the back. Blaine’s top is thin black and white stripes, but it’s under a cosy cardigan and paired with loose burgundy jeans. It’s not a bad look on him – quite the opposite, honestly – but it’s a style Kurt’s already seen on him a dozen times, like there’s nothing different about today at all.
Kurt wants to turn tail and run, but he’s never let the bullies in this place see him retreat and hide. He can stand up to slushies and dumpster tosses, and he’s not going to run away from his boyfriend. So he keeps walking down the hallway, keeps his head up. He doesn’t know he’s going to stop until he does, and he doesn’t know what he’s going to say until his mouth opens. “No matter what, I love you. Even if you’re angry at me.”
Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up and his mouth parts a little, and he looks so relieved that Kurt has to smile. “I’ve spent most of this morning rehearsing how I’d apologise. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things, not any of them.”
Kurt’s tempted to accept that apology as is. He could say all is forgiven and he knows Blaine will let the matter rest. He’ll go back to being charming and supportive, Kurt’s safest place in this entire school, and next time he’s angry and upset, he’ll work harder to hide it. He’ll put more effort into making sure they never have to discuss it, into finding ways to push it down so Kurt never knows he’s hurting or fuming. Blaine will try harder to be a good boyfriend and lock away anything that doesn’t fit that role, and that’s not acceptable to Kurt. He doesn’t want to date a cardboard cut-out of the Perfect Boyfriend. He wants Blaine Anderson, flaws and all.
Kurt reaches out, curling a hand around Blaine’s. It’s more than they’d usually touch in the hallways, but Kurt thinks they both need it. “These last few weeks, we’ve been through a lot.” Personally, Kurt’s sick of it. He’s sick of people being mean and hurtful because they can. He’s sick of people conveniently forgetting that no one deserves to live in fear and pain.
Blaine nods. He glances at the kids walking past them but he doesn’t move away from Kurt’s touch. “And there’s Regionals this week, so there’s much bigger things to focus—”
“That’s not what I meant,” Kurt talks through him. He’d been trying to lead up to the idea that a lot happened and tempers are frayed, but instead he cuts directly to the point. “I love you, but I love all of you. Including the parts of you that get scared and angry and sad. I love the parts of you that love Katy Perry and charming bowties just as much as I love the parts of you that love Spice World and shouting at pointless sports on TV. I want to know if you’re upset just like I want to know if you’re happy. You never have to apologise for telling me how you feel.”
Kurt’s eyes might be the slightest bit damp but he’s not going to feel self-conscious about it. Not when Blaine’s lips are pressed together and he’s looking to the side, blinking rapidly. “I’m still sorry,” he says, and his voice cracks on the last word.
“I’m sorry too.” Kurt pulls Blaine into a hug, a hug that’s fiercely returned. He knows they’re both sorry for more than the words that were said: for this whole mess, for David, for Sebastian, for trying their best and never knowing if it was the right thing to do. But that’s more than he wants to bring up in a school hallway with growing crowds walking by.
“Kurt,” Blaine says, but he doesn’t finish the thought. Instead, he keeps holding on, ducking his head to press his face against Kurt’s shoulder.
Kurt curls a hand around the back of Blaine’s neck, his thumb brushing through the hair at his nape, breaking the hold of the gel. For the rest of the day, he knows he’ll see those insistent, resilient curls against Blaine’s neck and remember holding him like this. Remember saying, “We’ll be okay, no matter what,” and “I love you so much,” and meaning every word.
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Kurt/Blaine
Spoilers: 3.14 “On My Way”
Notes: Set during 3.14 and features reactions to that episode. Title comes from Rilo Kiley’s “Portions for Foxes” (“There’s blood in my mouth ’cause I’ve been biting my tongue all week”) because Darren Criss singing “Cough Syrup” makes me think of Rilo Kiley. Thank you to
kmousie for such a quick beta!ETA: Crossposted at LJ and AO3.
Word Count: 4,096
Summary:
Kurt feels his stomach drop as he realises Blaine’s considering his words. It’s ridiculous. He shouldn’t need to edit and self-censure for Kurt. He doesn’t want Blaine to do that. He wants Blaine to know that no matter what he says or how he feels, he can always be honest with Kurt. Kurt will love him regardless.
***
After Blaine’s first day back at school, Kurt drives him home. It’s not a hardship to chauffeur his boyfriend to and from school – Blaine’s not allowed behind the wheel until he gets permission from his doctor – but Blaine’s already thanked him twice for agreeing to it.
“I’m not being entirely selfless,” Kurt points out cheerfully. “If I drive you home and your parents aren’t back for another two hours, and your couch is sitting there, all alone and unappreciated…”
“Now it all makes sense.”
***
They do end up on the couch, but not making out. Gossip Girl is playing on TiVo and Blaine is pressed against Kurt’s side, his head on Kurt’s shoulder. (His weight is on the good eye. After wearing the eye patch for weeks, it’s become a habit for Blaine to sit to Kurt’s left.) Blaine says something, but it’s so soft that Kurt doesn’t quite catch it.
“What did you say?” Kurt asks, pausing the TV.
Blaine sighs. “This sucks.”
“This sucks?” Kurt glances at the TV, but the show doesn’t seem any worse than usual. Storylines are still unbelievable, wardrobe choices are inspired.
“My eye waters if I don’t wear sunglasses outside,” Blaine says quietly. “I can’t finish my English homework on weeknights because reading after a day at school gives me headaches. When I complained about it, the doctor said its fine. I’m healing well and I have to be patient. This really sucks, Kurt.”
“I know,” Kurt says, kissing the thin skin at Blaine’s temple. “But we’ll get through it.”
***
“I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at Sebastian,” Blaine tells him a week later, and Kurt watches him take the stage and pour so much into his performance that it almost hurts.
Afterwards there’s not much Kurt can do, but he steps closer, wraps his arms around Blaine and holds on. Blaine’s fingers dig into his back – pulling his cardigan out of shape, but Kurt’s not worried enough to pull back.
“I’m angry that it happened again. That I was the one in hospital and he’s fine, he’s still in school and his life hasn’t changed,” Blaine says into Kurt’s shoulder, voice catching and breaking on the words. “It’s not fair.”
“It’s really not,” Kurt says, and doesn’t let go until the auditorium is empty and it’s only the two of them on the stage. The room is huge, objectively speaking, but onstage with Blaine, it feels like their own private world.
“Santana told me about Sebastian. About…” Blaine shrugs, letting out a sigh that sounds like the woes of the entire world. “It’s not important.”
“I think it is.”
Blaine stops and pulls back, stepping away. Kurt feels his stomach drop as he realises Blaine’s considering his words. It’s ridiculous. He shouldn’t need to edit and self-censure for Kurt. He doesn’t want Blaine to do that. He wants Blaine to know that no matter what he says or how he feels, he can always be honest with Kurt. Kurt will love him regardless.
“Just tell me. Whatever it is, just—”
“I’m angry, I’m furious, but it’ll pass,” Blaine says, and then he turns away to get his bag. He pulls his satchel strap over his shoulder. “There’s no point discussing it to death.”
***
Usually when something horrible happens, Kurt seeks Blaine out. He finds him. Mostly because he knows what Blaine will say, that Blaine will hold Kurt’s hand and tell Kurt that everything will be okay. They’ll get through it. Blaine will be supportive and kind, and he’ll never suggest that Kurt’s to blame.
But this is David Karofsky. This is a guy who hated himself so much that he tried to take it out on Kurt. Someone who was so scared of being different that he moved schools to find somewhere he could pretend to be like everyone else. This is Kurt’s mystery Valentine, who called Kurt over and over this week and was hurting so much he did something terrible and desperate.
No matter how Kurt thinks about it, it still comes back to him. Kurt knew about it – maybe not all of it, but enough – and Kurt could have, should have done more. He should have answered the phone. He should have reached out to David, checked if he was okay after Valentine’s Day. A brief look at his Facebook wall shows how bad things still are.
Kurt goes to the God Squad and does his best to pray. He doesn’t believe in anything higher, but he makes an attempt. It’s easier to think of it as psychically sending good wishes to David and his family. He doesn’t think it will work, but he has to try.
***
“It’s not your fault, Kurt,” Blaine says after Miss Pilsbury catches them in the hallway and says if they need to talk to someone, she’s always there. They’d both nodded and thanked her, mumbled something to get her to go away, but Blaine hadn’t missed Kurt’s guilty tone. Sometimes, his boyfriend knows him too well. “You can’t be blamed for what somebody else did. You didn’t choose for him to make that decision. You can’t control it, so it isn’t your fault.”
“Do you really think that? I could have answered his calls—”
“Still not your fault,” Blaine snaps out, hard and angry in a way he so rarely is. “You know it isn’t.”
Kurt steps back, more out of shock than anything else. He knows Blaine, and the lack of compassion is so unlike him that Kurt’s stunned. Maybe it’s because Blaine’s only known David Karofsky as the bully who made Kurt’s life hell; maybe it’s because after his own experiences, he has a very short fuse when it comes to bullies. Maybe it’s because this is upsetting Kurt more than he wants to show, and Blaine can probably tell.
But Kurt remembers sneaking into Dalton under the flimsiest of excuses and how Blaine worried and cared and went out of his way to be there for Kurt, someone he barely knew. It doesn’t make sense that Blaine would object to David needing some support too. “David needed someone,” Kurt says and Blaine nods, but his eyes are pinched and hard.
Luckily, the bell rings for class and Kurt has a good reason to leave this conversation unfinished.
***
Kurt normally falls into step with Blaine. It’s not something they plan, but they know each other’s class schedule and where they’ll be. They keep an eye on each other’s lockers. They always find each other.
Today, Kurt avoids his usual places. He doesn’t dawdle at his locker, or sit in the auditorium, or hang around the choir room. He sits in his car for lunch, too upset to eat anything, and he goes to the library straight after class is finished for the day. Kurt returns a few books and flicks through his current assignments, plans what he’s going to do when. He fills in half an hour until the crush around the lockers has gone.
Blaine sends a text message: Have to go home. Parents expecting me.
When Blaine got permission to drive, Kurt had been disappointed. It had been nice having company on the way home, having a good excuse to spend an extra hour with Blaine on his couch. Right now, he’s so grateful for it.
He replies See you tomorrow and adds a smiley face he doesn’t really feel. Then he calls the hospital, only to find he can’t visit yet.
Kurt goes home and does what he can. Cooks a meal in advance, just in case it’s needed. Does as many of his homework assignments as he can, in case he needs the time later. He knows from his dad that it’s hard to study at someone’s bedside. It’s hard to focus on writing a coherent essay while sitting near machines, hospital beds and coolly efficient nurses.
***
He sees Blaine in the student parking lot the next morning. Blaine smiles, says hey, and it feels like a performance. Like somewhere there’s a script (“Scene: parking lot. Enter boyfriend. Lead makes small talk and ignores current crisis.”). It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel real.
Blaine reaches over and wraps his hand above Kurt’s elbow, squeezes and says, “Come on.” He leads Kurt inside, not saying anything else until they get to the choir room and close the door. It’s always deserted early in the morning and today Kurt’s glad of it.
Kurt can’t sit still, so he stands. He paces, watching the ground, drawing straight lines from heel to toe, and following with the next.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Blaine says because he knows Kurt. He loves Kurt. He knows how Kurt thinks and what would worry him, and all of that’s lovely, all of it, but right now Kurt doesn’t want to be told its okay. He doesn’t want to be let off the hook for this, he shouldn’t be. Someone nearly died, and that should be important. That should be worth a little grief.
“I could have done more. I should have answered his calls.”
“He harassed you,” Blaine says slowly, carefully. “Nobody would expect you to answer the phone to someone who threatened to kill you last year.”
“I’m not trying to live down to the minimum expectation,” Kurt snipes back. “It doesn’t make it right to ignore him.”
“It wasn’t your responsibility to answer.” Usually, Blaine is patient and warm, but that comes out a little sharp, a little angry.
Surprised, Kurt looks over and Blaine smiles, but Kurt knows Blaine too. He knows that sometimes Blaine smiles because he means it, because he feels so good he couldn’t hide it if he tried; he knows sometimes Blaine smiles because it’s appropriate, because he should, because that’s what polite people do. This is definitely the latter. It’s understanding and encouraging, but the look in his eyes doesn’t match it.
“Are you mad at me?” Kurt asks, and there’s a rigid set to Blaine’s smile.
“Of course not.”
“You are,” Kurt says, because he knows Blaine like he knows McQueen, inside and out, seams to hemlines.
“Of course I’m not angry at you. Why would I be?”
“Because you look angry, and—”
“Kurt,” Blaine bites out, voice rough and clearly upset. It’s a warning, and that’s never happened before. Then again, they’ve never really fought before. Not that Kurt’s even sure this is a fight.
Maybe this is just one of the stages of grief.
“Shouldn’t you at least be able to tell me what you’re angry about?” Kurt asks, because Blaine’s been like this all week. He’s been jagged and bitter, and he keeps blaming it on his recovery, on tiredness, on discomfort from healing. Usually, Kurt lets it go because they’re all good reasons and must be contributing to Blaine’s unsteady moods. But he stepped back with David, pretended he didn’t have to ask because David would deal with it in his own way and eventually things would be fine. He can’t do that with Blaine.
He can’t risk that with Blaine.
“Look, it’s not even—” Blaine cuts himself off, lips pressed together into a furious line.
“Still angry at Sebastian?”
“Yes and—” Again, Blaine stops the thought before it escapes. He glances away from Kurt, glaring at the whiteboard like it holds all the answers.
Blaine’s always been a strange mix of transparent and opaque when it comes to his feelings. He’s easy to read onstage, when he says things like I love you and means them absolutely, down to his bones. It’s obvious how much he’s feeling and how deeply he means it. But there are times when Kurt can’t read him at all. Blaine smiles politely and says what he thinks should be said, and Kurt can’t always tell how much is genuine and how much is a conscious effort to do what’s expected.
Blaine’s temper is the same way. When Kurt’s angry, he’ll bite and snarl out comments and hold that anger, low and simmering. He’ll show it in sharp comments and heated rants to anybody who will listen, it’s all sarcasm and he’s never tried to hide it. Blaine’s temper is the opposite. It’s concealed beneath smiles and understanding nods, enthusiasm to try to see the good in everything until suddenly it bursts out. Kurt’s only ever seen it for short moments: a brief complaint on how the glee club is run or shoving Sam back in the choir room. It erupts like a volcano and then, just as quickly, Blaine covers it again, goes back to looking on the bright side of things.
Blaine acts as if having a temper is a weakness, as if showing he’s annoyed invalidates any point he’s trying to make. “What are you really angry at?” Kurt asks, and Blaine shrugs, and steps back.
“I’m fine. It’ll pass, Kurt,” Blaine says confidently as if willpower can force it to be true. “I’m worried about you. Are you okay? I know Karofsky—”
“I don’t want to talk about David.” Kurt couldn’t bear it, not now. Not yet.
“Fine,” Blaine says, but it really isn’t.
***
They see each other in the halls and walk to class together, but they don’t talk. Blaine mentions the novel he’s reading for English and Kurt tells him about Ms Langton’s ability to find misogynistic subtext in any story.
“We’re reading Animal Farm,” Blaine says, shuffling his books in his hands. “How could she possibly assign an essay on sexism?”
“She’ll find a way,” Kurt says, and then they walk in heavy silence to Blaine’s next class.
***
It makes sense that Kurt finds Blaine boxing in the gym at the end of the day. Kurt only finds Blaine in the gym when he’s upset about something and by the state of him – tank top damp and clinging to his sweaty chest – he’s been here a while. “Who are you angry at now?” Kurt asks brightly. If Blaine’s boxing, he’s usually riled up enough to share his frustrations.
“Honestly?” Blaine lands two quick, hard punches. “Everyone.”
Kurt tries to keep his tone light, tries not to wince at the steady thumps of Blaine’s fists. “Everyone? That’s a lot of people.”
“I’m angry at the Dalton administrators. I’m angry that they didn’t apply the rules I used to believe in.” A few sharp, quick jabs are followed by a sound punch that Blaine leans into with his whole shoulder. The bag swings back a foot and Blaine catches its return with another blow. “I’m angry that Karofsky was so vile to you. He was violent and mean and atrocious. And none of that will stop you crying over him.”
Kurt doesn’t try to lie and deny that. Kurt’s already cried, and Blaine knows it. “Anything else?”
Blaine’s intense glare at the bag only shifts to Kurt for a moment. “I’m angry that it happened at all. I remember having both of my arms in casts and wishing that the guys who did that could have a taste of their own medicine, so for a little while they’d know how it feels. That’s exactly what happened to Karofsky and I can’t even take any satisfaction in it. Because it’s terrible. All of it. The whole thing is ugly and horrible and I hate that it happened. And I hate that I’m angry at you.”
“You’re mad at me?”
“I don’t think you deserve it, and I don’t think I should be,” Blaine says, steadying the bag and standing still, “but I am.”
“You’re angry at me,” Kurt repeats slowly, struggling not to be hurt and failing. “You think it was my fault? You think I should have answered the phone? Because that wasn’t what you said at the time.”
“No. I’m angry that you didn’t tell Principal Figgins what really happened. You didn’t tell your dad, and I didn’t tell anyone either. We knew. We both knew what was fuelling all of that bullying, and we didn’t tell anyone.” Blaine takes a deep breath and releases the punching bag. He takes a few steps back, bending his knees and raising his fists to start beating the bag some more.
“You think I should have told someone? You think I should have outed him?”
“Yes,” Blaine says sharply. He hasn’t thrown a punch yet but he still looks ready to. “I know why you didn’t. I understand not wanting someone else to feel how bad it can be, but I don’t think we did the right thing. I think… Somebody else should have known. I don’t think it should be up to a bully to finally realise he’s wrong. I think there should be rules and they should be enforced. There should be consequences. And I think…” Blaine stops, shrugs. He’s still angry, it’s still sharply acidic and hiding under the surface, and Kurt can see it. It’s in Blaine’s hunched shoulders and clenched fists. It’s in the set of his jaw and the way he won’t look away from the bag, won’t look at Kurt while he throws around blame.
“There’s no point watching what you say now,” Kurt says, his voice going shrill and tight the way it always does when he’s distressed. “If you’re going to be opinionated, you might as well go for the jackpot.”
Blaine’s eyes meet his. He can see the challenge there, but Kurt’s not afraid. He’s never been afraid of a challenge, and he’s never been afraid of Blaine.
There’s a long beat where Blaine glares at him and then the words come out, rough and raw. “I think you should have told on Sebastian. You should have given that recording to Dalton so they could do something about it. You could have given it to me so my parents could press charges.”
“Who told you about that?” Kurt asks, and it makes him sound guilty but he’s not. He did the right thing.
“Santana.” Blaine takes a deep breath and Kurt watches him roll his shoulders like he’s trying to force the tension away. “I understand that you’d rather help everyone overcome their attitudes and grow into better people. I also know that you want to defeat him fairly. But it feels like…”
“Like what?”
“It feels a lot like transferring to Dalton and not pressing charges,” Blaine says and Kurt’s about to argue that his dad got Figgins and Coach Sylvester involved, that if the school board wouldn’t believe them there was no point involving the police. Then he looks at Blaine. Really looks at his boyfriend and sees how hurt and angry and scared he looks right now. Blaine’s not talking about Kurt’s transfer. “It feels like what happened to me didn’t count, that it wasn’t important enough to be recognised. So I’m the only one who has to live with the consequences.”
And Kurt can’t. He can’t deal with David hurting himself and Blaine hurting because Kurt tried to do the right thing. He can’t do this right now.
He’s not even though the doorway when he hears the thud of a fist hitting the bag.
***
Kurt doesn’t sleep well that night. He nearly texts Blaine a dozen times, nearly calls too, but he loses his nerve every time.
Courage, Kurt thinks to himself. It doesn’t help at all.
***
Kurt oversleeps the next morning and spends fifteen minutes finding the pore minimiser, which for some reason has been placed on the wrong shelf. Then he takes a good look at the outfit he'd planned for today: sky blue and lemon, a pastel impression of a bright sunny day.
He'd wanted to celebrate the idea of summer, light and breezy, and now it's all wrong. He doesn't feel like watercolours and blurred edges today. He wants straight lines and black-on-white definition. He wants clear lines and emphasized borders. He goes back to his closet and starts over.
By the time he gets to school, he’s late for class. The corridors are deserted, except for a few stragglers. Kurt smooths a hand down his monochrome striped pants and gets his books out of his locker. For once, he doesn’t even look at the pictures stuck to the inside of the door.
***
Blaine’s locker is open, and he’s standing there arranging books, occasionally leaning inside to reach something at the back. Blaine’s top is thin black and white stripes, but it’s under a cosy cardigan and paired with loose burgundy jeans. It’s not a bad look on him – quite the opposite, honestly – but it’s a style Kurt’s already seen on him a dozen times, like there’s nothing different about today at all.
Kurt wants to turn tail and run, but he’s never let the bullies in this place see him retreat and hide. He can stand up to slushies and dumpster tosses, and he’s not going to run away from his boyfriend. So he keeps walking down the hallway, keeps his head up. He doesn’t know he’s going to stop until he does, and he doesn’t know what he’s going to say until his mouth opens. “No matter what, I love you. Even if you’re angry at me.”
Blaine’s eyebrows shoot up and his mouth parts a little, and he looks so relieved that Kurt has to smile. “I’ve spent most of this morning rehearsing how I’d apologise. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things, not any of them.”
Kurt’s tempted to accept that apology as is. He could say all is forgiven and he knows Blaine will let the matter rest. He’ll go back to being charming and supportive, Kurt’s safest place in this entire school, and next time he’s angry and upset, he’ll work harder to hide it. He’ll put more effort into making sure they never have to discuss it, into finding ways to push it down so Kurt never knows he’s hurting or fuming. Blaine will try harder to be a good boyfriend and lock away anything that doesn’t fit that role, and that’s not acceptable to Kurt. He doesn’t want to date a cardboard cut-out of the Perfect Boyfriend. He wants Blaine Anderson, flaws and all.
Kurt reaches out, curling a hand around Blaine’s. It’s more than they’d usually touch in the hallways, but Kurt thinks they both need it. “These last few weeks, we’ve been through a lot.” Personally, Kurt’s sick of it. He’s sick of people being mean and hurtful because they can. He’s sick of people conveniently forgetting that no one deserves to live in fear and pain.
Blaine nods. He glances at the kids walking past them but he doesn’t move away from Kurt’s touch. “And there’s Regionals this week, so there’s much bigger things to focus—”
“That’s not what I meant,” Kurt talks through him. He’d been trying to lead up to the idea that a lot happened and tempers are frayed, but instead he cuts directly to the point. “I love you, but I love all of you. Including the parts of you that get scared and angry and sad. I love the parts of you that love Katy Perry and charming bowties just as much as I love the parts of you that love Spice World and shouting at pointless sports on TV. I want to know if you’re upset just like I want to know if you’re happy. You never have to apologise for telling me how you feel.”
Kurt’s eyes might be the slightest bit damp but he’s not going to feel self-conscious about it. Not when Blaine’s lips are pressed together and he’s looking to the side, blinking rapidly. “I’m still sorry,” he says, and his voice cracks on the last word.
“I’m sorry too.” Kurt pulls Blaine into a hug, a hug that’s fiercely returned. He knows they’re both sorry for more than the words that were said: for this whole mess, for David, for Sebastian, for trying their best and never knowing if it was the right thing to do. But that’s more than he wants to bring up in a school hallway with growing crowds walking by.
“Kurt,” Blaine says, but he doesn’t finish the thought. Instead, he keeps holding on, ducking his head to press his face against Kurt’s shoulder.
Kurt curls a hand around the back of Blaine’s neck, his thumb brushing through the hair at his nape, breaking the hold of the gel. For the rest of the day, he knows he’ll see those insistent, resilient curls against Blaine’s neck and remember holding him like this. Remember saying, “We’ll be okay, no matter what,” and “I love you so much,” and meaning every word.
